


The Kiss Hypothesis

by radishleaf



Series: The Fool, Reversed - Ezra Oneshots [10]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Banter, Fic Challenge, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Mild Language, Pre-Canon, Spoilers, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-09-30 11:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20446805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radishleaf/pseuds/radishleaf
Summary: Lucio comes up with the curious idea that after fifty kisses, Ezra would truly come to love him. Though doubtful, Ezra decides to test the count's hypothesis.Part of the The Arcana 50 Kisses Writing/Art Challenge.ON HIATUS.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'm starting this challenge a little late, but i've decided to try my hand at the 50 kisses challenge provided by arcana-resources @ tumblr: [plonk](https://arcana-resources.tumblr.com/post/187318560356/the-original-author-of-the-prompt-list). decided to turn this into a fic idea just for the heck of it. 
> 
> each "chapter" is more of a vignette pertaining to the prompt provided, but there is some continuity lol. they're also going to be kind of short (about ~1k) words, so take these as bite-sized reads. this fic also has no continuity to the other fics in this series. 
> 
> the prompt for this first chapter is: "...good morning."
> 
> as always, kindly disregard any grammatical errors, punctuation mistakes, and the like. i tried to be thorough. enjooooy.

The interior of the room was sweltering; a vestigial container of the blistering heat that came to Vesuvia every summer. Beneath the thin sheet he covered himself with, Ezra felt himself sweating bullets. Under normal circumstances, the enchanted threads spun and woven for him by his mother, Jemima, would’ve kept him comfortably cool, but thanks to a certain count clinging to him, he was denied this comfort.

Like a parasitic welch, Lucio draped over him, body heat wafting off him in droves as he slept soundly like a babe. Ezra would’ve found this endearing—even cute—but his annoyance denied him the prospect. Brow knit together, he frowned sleepily at the blond. Though he deigned to rest in Ezra’s room above the magic shop, sniffing in disgust as it was too small for his liking, Lucio gladly put his reservations aside after drinking himself green and then passing out after paying the magician a visit.

Though Ezra drank with him, he hadn’t guzzled the wine like water, and was conscious enough to drag Lucio upstairs and dump him into his bed. He did it out of the goodness of his heart, but part of him was greatly regretting it; it would’ve been easier to just roll him in a gutter like the rest of the great unwashed. At least he would’ve gotten a sound sleep.

Ezra elbowed Lucio in his side, but the count simply snorted and embraced him tighter. He felt his chest warm, but immediately quashed it. He was irate that morning, terribly so, and letting bygones be bygones just because the count was being loving (asleep, no less!) wasn’t in his repertoire. Lucio would have to own up to the trouble he was putting him through, despite how adorable his unconscious actions were.

“Lucio,” Ezra said to him, and when the count didn’t budge, he said more insistently, “_Lucio._”

The count’s brows furrowed, but even if he had heard Ezra, he refused to open his eyes. Another elbow in his side was met with a painted grunt, while another call of his name was met with a huff. The two continued this cyclical exchange until Lucio was the one to finally give. Eyelids prying open, he winced against the sun that filtered into the room before burying his face into the darkness of Ezra’s neck.

“Lucio, are you awake?” Ezra asked, despite the obvious answer.

“Mm, no. No, I’m, mm, I’m not.” Lucio’s hand slipped tighter about Ezra’s waist. “At least, I, mm, I don’t want to be.”

“Wake up.”

“Let, let me”—Lucio yawned—“let me sleep, Ezra…”

“Lucio, I’m _hot_.”

“T-that you are, Ezra,” Lucio sleepily murmured. “That you are…”

“_Lucio._”

“An absolute hot piece of work…”

Ezra let out a heavy sigh. “Gods that be, _no_. No, I meant—”

“A masterpiece in the flesh…”

“_Lucio!_”

Ezra felt the count’s lips thin against his neck. Pulling back just enough to match the magician’s glare with a frown, Lucio asked, “What? Must you scream so early in the morning?”

“I feel my tone is justified when I’m currently laying in a pool of my own sweat.”

“Sensitive to the heat, are you?” Lucio gave a lazy chuckle before gently placing a peck on Ezra’s lips. “Good morning to one of the many mornings of Vesuvia, Ezra. It’s warm here.”

“I’ve lived in Vesuvia long enough to be aware of the climate, Lucio,” Ezra replied with a sigh. The count’s kiss had pacified him, for now, as he threw an arm over his eyes. “It’s the body beside me I’m not used to.”

Lucio puffed out his bottom lip. “We’ve slept together many times, Ezra.”

“_Yes_, but in your bed—where there is room. A lot of room. Not this tiny mattress made, at most, for one.”

“Not my fault you sleep in such a cheap bed. I offered to buy you something bigger.”

“And I graciously declined because, one, whatever you would’ve bought wouldn’t fit through the front door, and two, I don’t want any of your gifts, Lucio. You can’t buy my affections.”

Lucio smirked. “Because I already have it.”

Ezra leveled a plaintive look at him. “And where did you get that ridiculous idea?”

Lucio harrumphed. “Don’t you?”

“You’re a good lay, but nothing more, Lucio. Don’t get your hopes up.”

But he did, finding the energy to give Ezra a moment of respite as he unwound himself from the magician to loom over him. Ezra slid his arm away to suddenly behold Lucio’s searching gaze, even though his expression betrayed nothing. After a beat, the count sighed, and dropped himself right back on Ezra. The magician silently grumbled beneath him.

“Then I’ll make you fall for me,” Lucio said. Ezra could hear the pout edged in his words. “It should take… say… fifty. Fifty kisses to make you fall in love with me.”

Ezra couldn’t help a small laugh. “And how’d you come up with that number?”

Lucio grinned. “It sounds about right. A good, even amount.”

“If you’re guessing jellybeans in a jar, Lucio, not trying to win someone’s love.”

Lucio frowned. “S-shut up. It’s a great idea, give me some credit.”

“Is that all you seek from others, Lucio? Commendation?” When the count refused to let up, Ezra sighed again, and nodded his head. “Whatever you say. The only way to test your, mm, hypothesis, is to actually do something about it. So I’ll only give you credit if it is proven true in the end.”

There was a childish sparkle to Lucio’s eye when he suddenly bounced up to consider Ezra again. “You mean it?” he said, lips tugging back in a pearly smile. “You’ll actually give this a chance?”

Ezra’s heart fluttered; it was endearing seeing the count get boyishly worked up over an idea, even if it was his own. It was a genuine side to him the magician wasn’t privy to; in the midst of all of their drunkenness and sex, Ezra knew so little of the true Lucio. Seeing just a snippet of him made Ezra fall a little more in love, even if he refused to admit thus.

“Yes,” Ezra said, reaching up to thumb his bottom lip. “Today’s kiss makes the first, so forty-nine more to go.”

Lucio’s lips widened beneath his touch. “Then we’re on the right course,” he said. “How do you feel about me now?”

“That you’re an annoyance,” Ezra said, “that I am, unfortunately, stuck with. I told you not to get your hopes up.”

Lucio rolled his eyes. “Stubborn as ever,” he huffed. “At the end of this, you’ll definitely be mine, Ezra. You’ll see!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prompt for this chapter was: "...goodnight."

For the umpteenth time, Ezra watched Lucio scoop up a spoonful of stew, but never eat it, only dump its contents back into the bowl. He felt like a mother keeping vigil over a child who refused to his greens, which by now, was how he would describe his relationship with the count. There were times when his boyishness was endearing, and others where he wanted to pull his hair out by the handfuls. Without a doubt, this was definitely the latter.

“If you don’t want to eat it, Lucio, I’m not forcing you,” Ezra said.

Lucio scrunched up his nose. “I know, I know. It’s not that it’s bad…” Ezra pursed his lips. “Okay, fine, it’s _bad_. Don’t you have something, say, more _expensive?_ Or refined? The wine’s the only thing worth anything here.”

Ezra rolled his eyes, picking up the bowl with him to take to the sink. “Well, my apologies for living so modestly, Lucio. It’s the most I can afford.”

“Which I don’t get, like, _at all_. Why _do_ you live like this?” Lucio threw his hands up. “You’re close to the count of Vesuvia! You could have anything you want!” He glanced aside. “Hell, you could come live in the palace without any protests.”

“And, pray tell, why would I want to do that?”

“I’d make you the court magician,” Lucio said. Despite his nonchalant tone, there was a hint of seriousness to his words. “I could see you more often. We wouldn’t have to hide our relationship under subtlety and trivialities.”

“As I’ve told you a dozen times already, Lucio, I don’t _want_ anything from you. Your status, your power, your money—none of it interests me. What we have right now is fine.”

“For you, maybe, but not for me.” Lucio was pouting again. “I like you, Ezra. You’re good company. Is it wrong of me to want to see you more?”

Ezra swallowed thickly against the pang of guilt in his chest. He thought he was stronger than this, but he found his sensibilities sinking. It was a new feeling having to put the thoughts and emotions of another first—the same for Lucio—but he felt he negotiated the precipice better. Not so much toeing it like the count, who was always swift to turn attention back to his own wants and desires, but finding some kind of balance. Finding and maintaining an equilibrium proved difficult, but such was the case of two lonely people finding each other.

Brows drawn up dolefully, Ezra turned about to Lucio to recant his words, but his attention was pulled aside by a knock at the door. Panic met the magician instantly; considering it was late in the evening, he hadn’t expected company, let alone while the count was in the magic shop. He had to hide Lucio immediately, and while it would’ve been smarter to shove him into a room or the back alley and have him wait there, Ezra cupped his hand over Lucio’s face.

Lucio blinked at him, bewildered, between the slits of his fingers. “Ezra, the hell?” he said. “What are you—”

Ezra was far away, however, having closed his eyes to mutter a few words beneath his breath. Lucio hadn’t the faintest clue what was happening, but when a strange sensation overcame him, he stilled. It was as if a drippy yolk was cracked above his head, slowly oozing down his face, and shoulders, and body, before reaching his toes. When Ezra opened his eyes again, he wrenched his hand back, and nodded before heading to the door. Lucio, though once speechless, suddenly felt a hint of Ezra’s panic.

“W-what the hell did you just _do_ to me?” Lucio cried.

“Magic.”

“_Clearly_. I mean, what specifically?”

“A disguise. Of sorts. We’ve company so just, just sit there and don’t say anything.”

“You can’t actually—”

“I mean it, Lucio. Please. For but a moment.”

Lucio acquiesced, for now, as Ezra pulled open the door to the magic shop. Beyond the entrance stood a portly man donned in a roughly-washed white tunic and pinstripe trousers. Lucio questioned this, but more so by the fake-friendly smile he wore. The count could tell instantly; he plastered the same expression on his face when he was forced to talk politics with the courtiers or his wife.

“Ah, Ezra. Good to see you home tonight. And Asra too, hello.”

Lucio drew up a quizzical brow, but Ezra cut in before he could say a word. “Yes, Morty. Hello. What brings you to the shop this time of night?”

Morty wrung his hands like a grooming rat. “Well, it’s a matter of your rent, Ezra…”

Ezra frowned. “I already paid you this month. What exactly is the problem?”

“You see… Well… I’m going to need next month’s rent in advance,” Morty said. “And next-next month’s rent as well.”

“I haven’t that kind of money at the moment, Morty.”

“Then, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Ezra.” Morty continued to rub his hands, one over the other. “The, um, the shop is barely afloat, you know? You barely break even every month, and you can’t even pay rent. S-so it would be better—”

“Hold on a second there, Morty.” Ezra cupped a hand on his shoulder and urged him back. “Can we discuss this outside?”

Lucio stilled as he bore witness to the proceedings, a chill working its way up his spine. He knew that look Ezra wore—a placid smile bellying a sinister rage. This Morty fellow had his condolences, Ezra wasn’t pretty when he was mad. His fate was sealed when Ezra tugged the door shut behind him, his once even tone devolving into horrific shouts that shook the magic shop’s interior.

Lucio couldn’t deny his small smile at this. Though it was rare for Ezra to be angry, rarer still was it for him to raise his voice. There was some amusement to be derived when such a composed person lost their cool. It would be but another moment before Ezra finally reentered, running a hand across his temple as he dropped into the seat across from Lucio.

“My apologies,” Ezra said. “That, that _idiot_ has been using every cheap trick or dirty scam in the book to make a profit off those foolish enough to believe him.” He sighed. “Then again, I too would resort to the lowest of the low if I gambled my savings away. Still, what a frustration he is… That’s the second time in three months he’s tried to pull that ruse on me.”

Testing the waters a little, Lucio said, “If you came to live at the palace, you wouldn’t have to deal with people like him. Ever.”

“Please. _Don’t_,” Ezra said, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s frustrating enough as it is you bringing that up again, let alone you saying it with Asra’s face. He would never suggest something like that.”

Lucio huffed, making the illusion of Asra pout. It was so uncharacteristic of the magician Ezra knew, he did actually did a double-take.

“I don’t know why you would believe anything that man says,” Lucio said. “He has a fox’s tongue, only capable of silvery lies.”

“That man happens to be a very close friend,” Ezra said. “So I would appreciate it if you didn’t speak ill of him.”

“Pah, don’t be a buzzkill. Now that I’ve gotten a chance to wear his face, I should be able to do or say what I want. Like…”

Ezra blinked at Lucio when he suddenly stood and rounded the table. His suspicions were all confirmed when the count suddenly leaned down and kissed the magician without provocation, making a gasp catch in his throat. Lucio had kissed him without warning many times, but while under the guise of Asra, Ezra absently thought he was locking lips with his close friend. It was jarring because he wasn’t sure what bothered him most—that Lucio had the audacity to test his patience yet again or that the idea of kissing the other magician hadn’t bothered him at all.

Ezra’s cheeks burned when Lucio pulled back, eyes searching his face. His once cheeky grin slipped away, replaced by anger. “What the hell, Ezra?” he spat. “What kind of reaction is that?”

“Y-you… You just kissed me, Lucio!”

“_Yes_, but I’ve done it hundreds of times!”

“B-but you’re… You look like—”

A flame burned in those familiar amethyst eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re—”

“I’m not, Lucio. I can ensure you, I’m not—”

“Then explain just now!”

“H-how can I?” Ezra glanced aside. “You look like Asra. For a moment, I _thought_ was kissing him. It doesn’t mean I have feelings for him!”

Lucio was doubtful, the twist of his lips were enough to signify that. Yet, he relented and withdrew from Ezra, leaning against the table. It was such a mundane, common pose for the real Asra, Ezra couldn’t help rubbing the back of his neck. Now, more than ever, was he beginning to regret casting a glamour on the count.

“Way to just kill my plans,” Lucio said.

Ezra rose a quizzical brow. “What plans?”

“I was going to seduce you. Drop a line to get you all hot and bothered, like, “Now why don’t I show you a good night, Ezra? Just the two of us?””

Ezra couldn’t deny how his blush worsened. “And then what?”

“Then we’d go upstairs and have sex. _Duh_.” Lucio leveled a plaintive look at him. “But there goes that brilliant idea.”

“I am _not_ having sex with you while you look like”—Ezra motioned at the count’s everything—“_that_, Lucio.”

“Oh, come on! Why not?” Lucio waggled his eyebrows. “It’d be something different. _Exciting_. Who hasn’t ever wanted to screw their friend?”

“_Me_.”

“That’s because you haven’t tried it yet! Come on!”

“I said no, Lucio.”

Lucio harrumphed. “You’re no fun.”

“As I’ve been told many, many times.” Ezra stood. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading for bed.” He ran fingers across his temple again. “You’ve drained all energy from me.”

“W-wait for me! I’ll join you.” Lucio yawned. “Feeling a tad tired myself.”

“No.” Ezra jabbed a finger down at the floor. “You’re sleeping in the back on the couch. I will not share a bed with you looking like that.”

“No fair! Then if the spell wears off—”

“I don’t know how long it lasts.”

“Damn it, why are you being stubborn? Let me—”

“No.”

“B-but, Ezra!”

“Hush. Enough.” Ezra turned on his heel and began to walk away. “Good night, Lucio.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prompt for this chapter was: "...goodbye."

There was an unappreciated luxury to being able to turn about, limbs akimbo, and not touch the body beside him. Ezra never knew true comfort until he was privy to a night’s rest in Lucio’s bed. Sure, the guest room’s one was quite comfortable, but it paled in comparison to what the count provided for himself. Lucio had regaled him with a sprawling, extravagant tale of the bed’s make from materials across the waters, and while Ezra listened intently, he only thought it half-true. While he wouldn’t deny the origins of the linen and cotton and down in its make, Ezra knew Lucio was only trying to charm him with his riches.

(Ezra wouldn’t deny that he _was_ charmed, but only by the bed—not the opulence Lucio surrounded himself with.)

A comfortable ache had settled over Ezra, centered about his loins, as he negotiated the line between consciousness and dream. Morning had come from another night of satisfying wine, satisfying food, and (somewhat) satisfying company, ending in a satisfying romp in bed. That was the whole of his relationship with Lucio; a no-strings attached affair of sex, sex, and more sex with an sprinkling of vices here or there. When Ezra said he was content with what they had now, he meant it. So the very idea that Lucio wanted more confounded him.

Throwing an arm over his eyes, Ezra thought, _It was probably just an idea. A whim to entertain. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s forgotten about his little hypothesis by now._

They had kissed innumerable times since Lucio proposed the idea of romance, and Ezra had ultimately lost count. Though they most likely had reached fifty by then, the magician felt no different. He was fond of Lucio, but simply that—fond. The idea of love was still a faraway notion, and to Ezra, largely unlikely.

_If I give, he’ll take. If I lower my defenses, he’d plow through them. If I relent, he’ll make it pomp and circumstance. I can’t give in. Not yet. Not when he simply _wants _me, but only as a thing, not as a person._

Ezra peeked an eye toward Lucio’s slumbering face, thinning his lips. His attraction toward Lucio only went skin-deep. The magician couldn’t deny he was handsome, and telling him so certainly inflated his ego, which Ezra detested. There wasn’t a hint of modesty, no humbleness, in Lucio. If he had only a pinch of it, then maybe Ezra would’ve _considered_ more to relationship.

“What a foolish man you are,” Ezra muttered aloud sleepily. “If only you weren’t.”

He had said the words in passing, a thought released to the air, but he heard a small harrumph beside him before Lucio said, “Keep talking like that and I’ll kick you out of bed.”

Silver eyes connected with his amber ones, provoking a smile on Ezra’s face. “Go ahead and try it,” he teased. “With a twiddle of my fingers, I could send you flying out the room.”

Lucio sniffed. “You magicians and your stupid magic. That’s unfair.”

“I’m simply using what’s at my disposal. No different than your threats as the count,” Ezra said. “Anyway, why are you awake, Lucio? It’s rather early in the morning.”

“_Someone_ wouldn’t stop rolling around, so I’ve been awake for the last ten minutes or so.” The count yawned. “Was last night not good enough for you? Are you so restless we have to do it again?”

Ezra chuckled. “I should be asking _you_ those questions,” he said. “It might’ve not been enough for you if you’re bringing the thought up.”

“Damn straight it wasn’t enough for me,” Lucio said, snaking an arm over to him. His hand slid down Ezra’s chest before settling on his hip. The magician reveled in the count’s touch, but he said nothing, worrying his bottom lip between teeth. “I can _never_ get enough of you.”

Oh, how he wished he could stay, but an unconscious reminder of his day’s responsibilities came to him. There were groceries to be bought, clothes to be washed, floors to be swept, stock to be refilled. Unlike Lucio, he wasn’t privy to sleeping in until noon and waking to his every whim and whimsy fulfilled with just a wave of his hand. Despite the appeal of morning sex (unlike in the night, Lucio was gentler, and though lazier, actually took his time), Ezra reluctantly had to turn him down.

Ezra’s returning hand cupped the back of Lucio’s neck, gently twirling the locks along his nape. “Nor can I,” he replied before bringing his hand to the count’s chest and pushing, “but I can’t. Not right now, Lucio. I have a lot to do today, so I should get going soon.”

“Do you have to?” Lucio whined. “What is it you need?”

“Lucio… You know I won’t tell you.”

“Come on, why? Let me spoil you for once, Ezra. Just say the word.”

Ezra shook his head, scooching forward to kiss the count gently. Lucio sighed when contact was made, turning over to have Ezra drape over him, their kiss deepening. The magician lingered for but a moment before pulling back, drawing a pout from Lucio when they parted.

“You spoil me enough, Lucio,” Ezra said against his lips. “I don’t need anything else. And I really should go, before the servants wake.”

Lucio harrumphed. “Do you _really_ have to?” Desperation edged his tone. “We could—”

“Now, now.” Ezra sighed. “Enough of that, Lucio. You’re not a child.”

The count rolled his eyes. “Yet you call me one all the time.”

“Because you _act_ like one. You’re still far too old to _be_ one.”

With that, Ezra pried himself from Lucio and hefted himself from the bed. His body felt heavy when he was to his feet, as if there were a gravitational pull to the count’s bed that refused to yield. With it settled the pain of those once comfortable aches, unfortunate reminders of what was to remain with him for the rest of the day.

Lucio watched him as he dressed, which was such a common occurrence, he wasn’t bothered by it anymore. Paired with childish, hedonistic, insufferable, and incorrigible, Ezra could add voyeur to the list. There were a few more adjectives he could’ve included, but Ezra had clothed himself before he could get to its entirety.

Buttoning the last button of his vest, Ezra turned to leave, but found his wrist caught by a stray hand jutting out from beneath the covers. The magician sighed, pushing his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose, as a single tug only tightened Lucio’s hold on him.

“Don’t go,” Lucio said once more. He was in full-on pout mode, it appeared. “Don’t want you to leave.”

“Lucio…”

“I know I’m being stubborn, but I mean it. Don’t go.”

“Let me guess, “Because your count demands it”?”

“_Yes_.”

“Well, I can’t listen to my count this time,” Ezra said, gently insisting Lucio’s hand off him, “nor any other time. If I do, I’d probably be laying dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“At least you wouldn’t be alone, I’d be there with you.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “Ever the romantic, aren’t you?” The magician brought Lucio’s hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle gently, before giving it a squeeze. “Next time, all right? Goodbye, Lucio.”

The count’s eyes wavered, but he acquiesced to his own protests, and withdrew his hand. “_Fine_,” he said, rolling away and giving Ezra a backhand wave. He took disappointment as any sullen boy would. “Later then. Bye.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> going at this challenge at my own pace, so might miss a day or two! still will go in order, though. 
> 
> the prompt for this chapter was: "...where it hurts."

The sword clattered against the stone flooring as it was thrown aside in Ezra’s haste to reach Lucio. Brought to a knee, the count winced as red quickly began to soak through to the pristine white of his jacket before staining his hands. He tried to force a snarky grin at Ezra as the magician lowered himself to Lucio’s height, hands hovering with a tremble, but the bite to the tease fell on deaf ears.

“So, _ugh_, s-so you finally got me,” Lucio hissed.

“_Hush_,” Ezra admonished. “This isn’t something to joke about, I cut you deep!”

“A-about damn time. For… For the longest, it was as if you, you were handling a, _mnh_, a toothpick. Made me wonder when you’d finally t-tag me.”

“Lucio, I told you to quiet.” Ezra’s brow knit together as he negotiated him back toward the wall, propping him up. “There’s much I need to do; you’ll just complicate things with that mouth of yours.”

“Can you blame me? But it’s a, _ugh_, good distraction from the pain. Been a long time since I’ve been hit like this.” Ezra worked at the buttons of his jacket before pulling at the lapel. Lucio hissed beneath his breath again as he shrugged it off. “Forgot how bad it hurts.”

Ezra conceded to the fact that, yes, talking would prove helpful in this situation. For him as well—the last thing he wanted to do was hurt another, let alone Lucio, and the shock of the moment was still raw. He could handle himself if kept distracted by idle chatter. Especially as the spill of red began to coat his hands as well.

“Weren’t you a mercenary?” Ezra asked Lucio as he mentally combed his brain for the spell for healing major wounds. “Shouldn’t you be used to things like this?”

Lucio harrumphed. “I barely succumbed to wounds, i-it, _mn_, it was always the other way around,” he said. “I had others buckling under my sword.” He grinned. “N-not just the one made of metal.”

Ezra couldn’t understand how the count could joke at a time like this, but the implication had him smiling nonetheless. “Pervert,” he said, sliding fingers along the gash. They began to glow as the magician worked his magic, skin knitting together under his touch.

Whatever retort Lucio had for him was silenced as he hissed for a third time, the strange burning sensation from the unnatural healing making him crane against the wall. Ezra concentrated solely on his handiwork, ignoring how the count floundered, before the wound closed completely. Only a small mar of pink remained on his side, which would likely fade in the coming week. Ezra let out a long sigh as relief flooded him; it was good to see a success when he only had to use that spell twice before.

Lucio glanced down, twisting his side to get a good look at what Ezra had done. “I wouldn’t have minded a scar, you know,” he said, twiddling his fingers. “Can’t you reverse it to, like, just a scab or something?”

“Why, exactly?”

“It’d be a wonderful way to preserve this moment.” Lucio beamed brightly at Ezra. “The day you finally marked me—I want something to remember it by.”

“Wounding someone I care about isn’t something I _pride_ myself in, Lucio,” Ezra said. “You may, but I don’t.”

Silver eyes suddenly sparkled. “You care about me, Ezra?” he asked, joyous.

Ezra immediately deflated his ego by retorting, “Nominally. You’re getting ahead of yourself if you think you’re significant.” His lips curved in a smile. “Though what I care about most is _not_ getting thrown in the dungeon for wounding the count of Vesuvia.”

“As if I would do that,” Lucio said, reaching up to cup Ezra’s chin between forefinger and thumb. “I’d rather shackle you up in my room and fuck you senseless.”

Ezra gave him a hooded look. “Don’t tempt me, Lucio,” he muttered. “I might hurt you again.”

Lucio suddenly winced. “Too late for that.”

The magician’s eyes widened to the whites as Lucio suddenly keeled in on himself. Ezra almost cried out in earnest until he heard a peal of laughter bubble up from the count.

“Oof, it’s hurting—right there,” Lucio said, cocking his chin downward. “Mind healing that part as well?”

Ezra wanted to throw his head back and laugh. Never mind that the magician just healed him from a mortal wound; Lucio thought it a ripe moment to seduce him. Despite the time they spent together, Ezra still got swept up and away by the almost comical attempts of seduction Lucio made. There was never a hint of seriousness between them, though whether Ezra liked it that way or not was difficult to determine.

_And he wants me to love him_, Ezra thought as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Lucio chest. “Here?” he asked teasingly. “Is this where it hurts?”

“Mmph, no. Lower.”

Ezra’s lips slid down the pale expanse of skin, bumping over every ridge or faded scar on the count’s chest. Lucio breathed low, each exhalation shallower, as the magician approached the one area yearning for touch. Prying the top button of his fly open, Ezra took extra care never to give him that satisfaction; instead, pressing a kiss right beside the small down of hair of his loins.

“Is this where it hurts?” Ezra asked Lucio. “Or is it someplace else?”

Lucio swallowed thickly. “It’s, ahh, it’s in the right direction,” he said.

“Then here?” Ezra kissed his navel. “Or here?” His lips dipped to his hip.

“Stop teasing…” Lucio’s evident impatience had Ezra’s eyes glinting. “You know where the pain is.”

Ezra hummed as he rose to his knees, tut-tutting the count. “Now, now, Lucio. If you’re in pain, you have to tell me where. I’m not a doctor, after all.”

Lucio rolled his eyes. “Do I have to bleeding just for you to know?”

“That’s the most obvious sign of pain, Lucio.”

“Then let me get the sword—”

Ezra shook his head, laughing bubbling up from him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he said, twining arms about Lucio’s neck. “I know exactly where the pain is.” He nudged his knee at Lucio’s loins. “So let’s take care of it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been a little stressed lately, but managed to sit down and type this out. 
> 
> the prompt for this chapter was: "...where it doesn't hurt."

Of course, only someone as ridiculous as Lucio would find a need to throw a quarterly birthday bash. The wait of a whole year was too long for him; why shouldn’t he pepper the calendar with celebrations leading up to the grandiose Masquerade he threw for himself and the rest of Vesuvia? Ezra was invited, but he deigned to attend—social functions, in general, weren’t his thing. He preferred the solitude of his shop, the solemnness of his study, _not_ the company of those whose names and faces he barely knew.

Part of him was sure Lucio invited him to embarrass him, watch his flounder when it came to social interaction. While his relationship with the count was amiable—noticeably _dangerously_ close to him, some have offhandedly commented or observed—Ezra still struggled with his close “friends” (though he wouldn’t go as far as to consider them that). He found some comfort when Nadia joined them, though this was a rare and in-between blessing, so Ezra was usually shadowing the count most of the night. He felt ridiculous doing so, but such was the life of a guarded introvert who refused socialization.

This celebration was a reflection of many others. Like a masterful strategist, Lucio laid claim to the foyer, and shooed out any servant save the ones he handpicked to manage his menagerie of revelers. There were so many, it immediately triggered Ezra’s fight-or-flight response; pinning him to his spot on the sofa beside Lucio. While the count fluidly carried on three conversations, the clawed ends of his gauntlet like a conductor’s staff indicating who may speak next, Ezra quietly nursed a glass of wine and tried to follow the flow.

This proved difficult—not only due to Ezra’s weak social prowess, but the wine had hit him in another way. Though rare, there were unfortunate times where it didn’t offer a comforting warmth, but a numbing shroud that wrapped him completely in upset feelings. Since he was already in a bad mood, it was no surprise the wine exacerbated it, all sense of being in Ezra’s face dropping as he began to ruminate. Lucio, who would glance aside to the magician every so little while, was quick to catch his change in mood.

Lucio leaned aside and tried to ask Ezra if he was all right, but his attempt and those thereafter were swallowed up by the cacophony of song and chatter and the magician ignoring him. Despite his reluctance, the count knew it would bother him that one person—specifically, the person he was in love with—wasn’t enjoying the festivities. If his presence couldn’t bring joy and celebration to _all_, what was the point?

Waving a dismissive hand, Lucio suddenly said, “That’s enough. Everyone can leave.”

Silence quelled the revelers, punctuated by a click of a tongue or roll of eyes in protest. However, not a body moved; everyone weighing a moment as if thinking Lucio would change his mind in the next instance.

Brow furrowing when not a person listened, Lucio barked, “Didn’t you assholes hear me? I said _leave!_”

At once, every single person scuttled to the double doors that led into the foyer; forming a jumbled line as people pushed and cursed to exit. In no time at all, Lucio and Ezra were left to their own devices. If Ezra thought himself to be part of those required to go, it appeared he didn’t even consider it. It was as if Lucio’s words went in one ear and out the other. This was only more cause for concern.

Unfortunately, finding a way to approach Ezra proved difficult. When it came to comforting others, the count fell short. For Lucio, it was simple—sex, wine, and good food and company were all he needed. But others? It was easier for him to offer what worked for _him_. Yet, when even the great party he was throwing went breezily ignored, Lucio was at a loss.

Fingers tapping an impatient beat along the edge of the sofa, Lucio sighed, and said, “Sooo… Ezra. Uh. Is something wrong?”

Ezra blinked out of his thoughts before slowly turning to Lucio. “What was that?” he asked.

“I asked if something was bothering you.”

Ezra rose a quizzical brow. “No?” he replied. “Why would you—” He took in the expanse of the foyer, surprised to see the two of them were alone. “Where is everyone, Lucio? Did they just up and leave?”

“I dismissed them,” Lucio said with a slight harrumph. “Unlike the others, you’d grown quiet. As if there wasn’t a party celebrating _me_ going on around you.” The count looked aside. “I was worried, okay? I can’t be satisfied if even _one_ person isn’t enjoying my presence.”

Ezra internally grimaced, sinking away his previous upset feelings for one of embarrassment. He couldn’t admit it, even to himself, but he was touched to know the count was concerned. It actually drew up Ezra’s own worry, making him lean into the count’s space and look him over. It was something so uncharacteristic, it was confounding.

Lucio tensed. He had expected Ezra to kiss him (then again, he always expected Ezra to kiss him), so having him stop short muddled his expectations. When the magician drew back, Lucio couldn’t deny he was a little disappointed they didn’t make out then and there.

“What?” was all he could manage.

Ezra shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “But to answer your question: No, there is nothing wrong, Lucio. You didn’t have to stop your party to address my well-being.”

Lucio frowned. Didn’t Ezra see he was trying to be _nice?_ He didn’t have to shut down his attempt so easily! “Hey, there is something wrong!” he cried, pointing an accusing finger. “You looked like a dog kicked out into the rain just now. Something is clearly bothering you, and here I am—”

Ezra flashed his hand at Lucio. “No. Don’t,” he interjected. “I know you mean well, Lucio. Hard to imagine you do, but I appreciate the attempt. However, I would prefer if you didn’t try to comfort me.”

“And why not?”

“It isn’t your strongest suit. Throwing parties? Sex? Being a complete pain the ass? Those are your strengths. Being a decent human being? I think not.”

“Well, _excuuuuse_ me,” Lucio said, rolling his eyes. “I can be decent if I want to be!”

“So you mean never?”

Lucio clicked his tongue. “Fine then, don’t tell me what’s wrong. Sorry for _caring _about you, Ezra.”

A pang hit Ezra’s core, making his feelings stir again. Even if Lucio was unaware of it, he had—for once—weaseled his way into the magician’s heart. Ezra wanted to apologize; how could he deny another trying to comfort him? Even if that person was Lucio?

_Things are different when someone’s feelings are genuine. When they _actually_ care,_ Ezra thought.

Running a hand a through his hair, the magician said, “I… I’m sorry, Lucio. I shouldn’t have turned you down like that. It was very rude of me.” Lucio jerked about to him, surprised, but Ezra ignored him. “Thank you, I appreciate your concern.”

The count’s narrowed eyes continued to study Ezra just as he did before. “So there really _is_ something wrong with you,” he said.

“I could say the same of you,” Ezra said, giving him a slight smile. “You’re like a whole different person.”

Lucio pursed his lips, averting his eyes as a light dust of scarlet heated his cheeks. “Whatever,” he mumbled. “A-anyway, what’s wrong? You never told me what the problem was.”

“To be frank, I-I don’t trust you enough to tell you, Lucio,” Ezra said. “My apologies.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lucio said. “Though it’s a bit insulting. Haven’t we built enough, uh, what’s the word”—he scrunched his brows together, waving his hand about as if trying to conjure the word—“rapport? Yes, that’s it. Haven’t we built enough rapport to share the secrets between us?”

“Oh, are you willing to do so?” Ezra leaned back in his seat, hands folded in his lap. “If you’ve something to tell me, Lucio, I’m all ears.”

The count’s lips parted to do so, but the words stilled on his tongue. Giving his head a little shake, Lucio said, “Never mind. N-not yet.”

“So you see where I’m coming from?”

“Yes…”

“Then let’s leave it at that, all right? When the time is right with both of us, then we can be transparent.”

“Still…” Lucio tilted his head. “Is nothing to come of this? Are we just going to drop the matter altogether?”

“It’s preferred, yes.”

“And here I thought I could be of _some_ comfort, but nothing? Absolutely nothing? You’re too stubborn, Ezra.”

Ezra sighed. Of course, Lucio would turn the matter back to him. It was to be expected. “Not now, Lucio. Seriously. My head is killing me and my chest feels heavy. I don’t need your, your _whining_, right now. It’ll only make things worse.”

“Then where doesn’t it hurt?”

Ezra blinked at Lucio. “What?”

“If I can’t be a comfort to the places that hurt, where doesn’t it hurt?” Lucio scooched over, hovering an inch above the magician. “Tell me where, I’ll make it better.”

Ezra sighed. The notion was sweet. Very sweet. How could he say no? He tapped a finger to his lips, saying, “Right here, Lucio. There is no pain here.”

Lucio gave a crooked smile. “I should’ve guessed,” he said.

It was an endearingly sweet kiss; feathery light and chaste, as if it were their first. The blossom of mirth in Ezra’s chest was strange, unlike any he ever felt. When he pulled back from Lucio, he was dazed by the swell of emotion mixing with his previous feelings. But despite all this, the affection in his eyes was evident, making Lucio draw in a breath.

“Ezra…”

The magician blinked before shaking his head clear. Pushing Lucio back, he shot to his feet, and said, “Please excuse me.” He then made to exit the foyer.

Once again, Lucio’s lips parted as if prepared to stop him, but he said not a word. He simply watched Ezra leave, disappointment palpable in his chest.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prompt for this chapter was: "...on a falling tear."

Asra sighed when his umpteenth question was met with a discontented groan in response. For the past few hours, he tiptoed around bothering Ezra, but when he refused to budge from the kitchen table, he put a little pressure into his questioning. He was dearly concerned for the other magician; he knew Ezra was always reluctant to talk of his troubles, if only to not have Asra worry, but he was quick to recover from whatever folly befell himself or another. The matter must’ve been pressing if Ezra found it fitting to mope and groan for half the day already.

“Ezra, can’t you talk to me?” Asra pleaded, placing down his cup of tea. The one he had set before the other magician had long grown cold. “It pains me to see you like this.”

Ezra peeked an eye at him over the crook of his arm. “My apologies, Asra. I find it difficult to do so,” he replied.

Asra released such a heavy sigh, his shoulders dropped. “You’ve never had difficulty talking to me about more, mm, personal matters before. What makes this one so different?”

“I-it’s… well… It isn’t that I _can’t_ talk to you about it, Asra, I just have difficulty finding the right words. I don’t know how to explain myself.”

“Is the matter that complicated?”

“Sort of.”

“Then begin with the basics. If you can manage that much.”

Ezra pursed his lips as he fixed himself upright, wracking his brain for the briefest of explanations. However, how could one summarize their affair with the count of Vesuvia? Worst yet, despite being completely transparent with Asra about other aspects of himself, Ezra had not once let him be privy to information about his love life. Partly out of embarrassment, but largely out of shame. Of all people, Lucio was the last person Asra would want him taking as a lover. He’d warned him about the man several times already, but Ezra fell anyway. And he fell hard.

“Let’s… L-let’s just say, I’ve fond myself entertaining a complicated predicament with someone. For a long time now. A very, _very _long time. And as the days go on, the worse it gets.”

Asra quirked a curious brow at Ezra’s explanation, but much to his relief, he didn’t press the matter. “And might an end ever be reached?” he asked.

“In due time,” Ezra said. “It seems we’re headed in that direction.”

“So then what’s bothering you, Ezra? Is it the predicament itself?”

“Partly.”

“Mm, but it isn’t the whole of your concerns. That whole is your feelings on the matter.”

“Yes.” Ezra ran a thumb across his knuckles. “I’m… upset. I’m upset with how we’re progressing.”

“Is it good progress?”

“Yes. Very good progress. But…”

Asra hummed out a note, studying Ezra, before he took a sip of his tea. “You’re content with what you have now,” he said behind the rim of his cup.

Ezra started slightly. “How did you…?”

“I’ve known you long enough, Ezra. You’re easy to read,” Asra said. “It takes a little finesse, but I can understand you even if you can’t explain yourself.”

Ezra calmed, giving Asra a slight smile. “I’m glad to have someone like you in my life, Asra. Talking to you feels so natural, so easy. I don’t have that with anyone else.”

Asra’s next gulp of tea caught in his throat, almost making him choke. He managed to save face and hide his embarrassment by forcing it down and turning attention back to Ezra’s predicament. “A-anyway, have you discussed this with your significant other?”

Ezra blinked. “Significant…?”

“You didn’t think I noticed, did you, Ezra?” Asra said. His smile was strained, but he knew Ezra wouldn’t notice. “For the past few months, your demeanor has changed. You’ve been glowing with a certain, mm, brightness lately. To the point it’s blinding.”

“A-Asra, it’s not—”

“Oh, but it is, Ezra. I couldn’t be happier for you. That’s why seeing you troubled is so heartrending. You don’t deserve to be unhappy.”

Ezra bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Asra.”

The magician drew up his brows dolefully. “No, no. How I feel here is irrelevant, though I thank you for your concerns. I’m here for _you_.”

“R-right…”

“So back to the matter at hand. Have you talked to them about your predicament and how you feel?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Is there something keeping you from doing so?”

“There isn’t, but… My, erm, he’s a difficult person, Asra. Simply talking to him about important matters is akin to pulling teeth. He just won’t listen.”

“Then you have to make him listen.”

Ezra furrowed his brow. “And how might I go about doing that?” he said. “I said he was difficult. You expect me to lock him in a room, sit him down, and force him to talk?”

Asra nodded his head. “That sounds like the plan.”

“Why, I—” Ezra blinked. “Wait, that… does sound like a viable plan. I mean, the locking in a room part is a tad presumptuous, but I can certainly force him to talk.”

“Think it’ll work?”

“Yes. It’d take some bartering, but I’m sure it will work.” Ezra nodded his head, before a smile bloomed on his face. “Thank you, Asra. You’ve helped me out yet again.”

The magician couldn’t deny the heat to his cheeks, but he waved a dismissive hand, saying, “I did nothing at all. You came up with an idea yourself. But enough of that.” He motioned his hand upward. “Up, up!”

Ezra blinked at him, but did as he was told. “What is it?”

The magician couldn’t get in another word edgewise before Asra rose, stepped up in front of him, and clamped hands on his arms. Ezra stumbled over his own feet as Asra suddenly began to spin him with such strength and speed, Ezra thought he would chuck him out the nearest window. It was but a beat later that Ezra realized what he was doing: When they were younger, barely children scraping their preteens, Asra would grab his arms and “spin the troubles out of him.”

It was such a faraway memory, Ezra had forgotten how frequently they did it. The nostalgia and mirth of the moment had the magician throwing his head back and laughing joyfully, Asra joining him, until tears streamed down his cheeks. As they slowed to a stop, Ezra tripped over his feet again, and barely caught himself on Asra’s shoulder as the room whirled about him.

“Gods above, it’s… it’s been so long since we’ve done that,” Ezra said between pants and chortles, beaming down at Asra. “I’d completely forgotten.”

Asra’s heart caught in his throat. To have Ezra look upon him so affectionately, so suffused with love, had his mind turning to mush. He never thought himself worthy enough, never thought himself deserving to be loved by him. Yet, he couldn’t contain the unconscious gesture of leaning forward and kissing his cheek tenderly, right beside where a tear once fell.

Ezra blinked down at Asra, but didn’t rebuke him. Instead, his heart swelled with love. “Thank you, Asra,” he said. “I couldn’t have asked for a better friend. Thank you for making me feel better.”

A frown almost caught Asra’s lips, but he forced a smile. _I shouldn’t have expected anything more,_ he thought.

“Of course, Ezra,” he replied. “Anything for you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prompt for this chapter was, "...to shut them up."

Lucio had an extraordinary habit of _never shutting up_. It was why he meshed well with Ezra; hardly the conversationalist, he segued into the role of listener well. The count gladly took hold of any opportunity to gloat, and though the magician was strangely quiet their last few encounters, he preferred filing the air with his own voice rather than make attempts to hear out Ezra’s concerns again. If there was one thing that came easily from Lucio’s need to talk and talk, it was that he could be led astray without a hint of protest.

Ezra gladly took hold of this—literally—by hooking a hand under Lucio’s forearm and guiding him to a secluded spot. His shrill voice bounced off the palace walls as Ezra dragged Lucio into the depths of the guest wing. Since there wasn’t a celebration planned (surprisingly), there were no guests or servants to be had, and Nadia was busy entertaining the courtiers in the gardens. Thus, Ezra and Lucio had the entire wing to themselves.

Opting for a random door, Ezra tugged it open, and pulled Lucio inside before shutting it close. The count continued to babble, unaware of where he was, as his gauntleted hand motioned into a fist pump.

“And that marked another victory for the count of Vesuvia!” Lucio cried, raising his chin to a round of applause only in his head. “But don’t get my started on my successful hunt last fall! A _huge_ stag—the size of a mountain, Ezra!—nearly got away, but Melchior and Mercedes chased it down. It didn’t stand a chance—_mmph!_”

Ezra forced Lucio up against the door and caught him in a crushing kiss. He didn’t know what was more glorious: His surprised reaction or finally having him shut up after what felt like hours of his drivel. Still, he would take any small victory against the count for the time being, as he had other things to confront him about.

Lucio puffed out his bottom lip, pouting. “What was the for?” he asked. “It’s not that I’m _against_ it—far from it—but I wasn’t finished with my story!”

“You talk too damn much,” Ezra said, earning him a pointed look. He fisted a hand on his jacket and dragged him to a nearby settee. “Let me bend your ear for once.”

Lucio harrumphed. “Where’s the fun in that?” he said, though accepted Ezra’s manhandling of him. He dropped onto the cushion with a little bounce. “Everything you’d want to talk about is _boring_.”

“Hm? You think so?” Ezra clambered onto his lap. “How would you know if you don’t give me a chance?”

“I know.” His mocking smile was all Ezra needed to know that Lucio was teasing him, even if he was striking at the very core of the truth. “You’d probably want to talk about, say, magic herbs, or magic spells, or, or other weird magic things no one else knows or cares about.”

“Besides Asra,” Ezra supplied.

“Pah, that’s because you two are cut from the same cloth. _Booooring_ magicians with equally boring lives.”

Ezra hummed. “Then maybe I should take him on as a lover instead…”

Lucio huffed. “Excuse me? What was that?” His tone had dropped to low and menacing. “You can be whatever you want with him, but your heart is _mine. _You can love only _me_.”

“Oh, but I never said it was, Lucio,” Ezra said. His smile was a mirrored countenance of the one Lucio wore before. “Remember? After fifty kisses? You said that’s how long it’d take for me to fall in love with you.”

“T-that was said in jest, even though I still hold true to my word.”

“About fifty kisses?”

Lucio slid arms about his waist. “No, about wanting you to love me.”

“And what would you say if I was seriously considering your offer?”

Lucio stilled. “Really?” His lips curved upward in a genuine smile. “You want to be mine?”

“I belong to no one, Lucio,” Ezra said, “but you’re all right company.”

He harrumphed.

“But before we can be _anything_, there some things we have to discuss.”

Lucio’s pleased expression fell to a frown. “What now?”

“Just some things I would like you to abide by.” Ezra held up a finger per each listed request, pressing them against Lucio’s lips to keep him quiet. “One, our relationship must be kept secret; two, you are to take on no other lovers besides me; three, you are to stay away from the shop at my behest; and four, I will decide if or when this relationship ends. Does that sound viable?”

Lucio crooked a brow. “Aren’t those already the agreements of our current affair?” he asked.

“They are, but unlike before, I’m going to be firm about them. Your chances are numbered this time, Lucio. Think before you do something from now on; if not, it could signal the end.”

“As if you would throw me away so easily.” Lucio pressed himself into the hollow between Ezra’s neck and shoulder, nosing the small expanse of skin. “You’d regret it just as I would.”

Ezra harrumphed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve a kind heart, Ezra. Kinder than you care to admit. The guilt would eat you alive.”

Ezra pursed his lips. He hated it when Lucio read him so succinctly, so easily. He thought himself so careful around the count, never revealing too much, but Lucio still managed to _know_ of his true self. He immediately wanted to push him away, deny him any touch, but his arms wound tighter about the count’s shoulders. If there was anything he’d grown weak to, it was the branching affection within him.

“That said, do you agree? I need to have your word, Lucio.”

“It sounds easy enough, so sure. Have things your way, Ezra.”

“Wonderful, because you have a month to prove yourself.”

“And that means…?”

“I expect you on your best behavior, Lucio. That includes, but not limited to, sex is at my discretion, as well.”

Lucio made the most horrified noise, pulling back from Ezra with a shocked look. “_No_,” he breathed. “You can’t be serious. You mean, we can’t—”

It was here that Ezra knew things were easier said than done. “Yes,” he answered steadfastly. “You should’ve expected as much, Lucio.”

The count sighed. “I should’ve,” he replied, eying the second half of the settee forlornly. “There go my plans…”


End file.
